High School Treachery | ✓

19 | See You

1 9
See You

Malia takes me shopping the next day.

It's completely out of the blue. We haven't exchanged more than ten words a day since I've moved back, and yet, here we are. At the mall, acting as if we're two best friends wanting to spend the day together.

Apparently, all it takes is not liking the same girl to make us bond.

"What do you think?"

Malia leisurely looks my way, facial expression giving away nothing as she nods once and says, "It's nice."

"Cool," is my lame response.

I don't know what else to say to her. A frown comes to my face as I turn around and head back into the changing room. I take my time changing out of the dress I tried on, exchanging it for the clothes I came in.

I've never been the type of person to seek approval from others. It's not because I'm some girl who thinks she's better than everybody, because that's certainly not the case, and I know it. There's obviously girls much prettier than me out there. I learned that from a young age when all eyes landed on and stood glued to Malia the second we entered a room. Even in Florida, I didn't get much attention. Not until Liam came along. That's when I gained more confidence, but even then, I still knew I would never be the prettiest girl in the room.

There's nothing too beautiful or too ugly about me. I'm average, and I'd become okay with that over my high school years.

I don't have that wow factor like Malia does, or hell, even Jessica. As much as I hate to admit it now, after what that bitch did, she's always been beautiful. She was the one people stared at when our trio entered a room, and Bea and I had grown okay with that. We were okay with her being the pretty one, and us being the fun ones. Years of being by Malia's side prepared me for it.

But being back here, back by my dear cousin's side, makes all those ugly insecurities come rushing back.

She's always had this natural talent of making me feel like I'm not enough, and the sad part is, I don't even think she's trying too. Just by being herself, her overly beautiful and confident self, she makes me feel like shit.

When I walk out the room after my fair share of self-loathing for the day, I see Malia's moved to the counter, waiting for me.

We looked at hundreds of clothes in twenty different stores, and I bought enough dresses and shoes and jeans to last me all the way till the summer, but all Miss Carrington bothered to get with her new dad's black card is my stuff—nothing for herself.

"Why are you not getting the dress?" Malia asks when I reach her.

I look down at the shirts hanging over my arm, then shake my head at her. "Didn't fit right."

Malia sends me a confused look, but quickly drops it in exchange for an annoyed glance. It's gone before I can start an argument over it.

Maybe if she didn't seem so distant I'd have actually believed her when she said the dress was nice.

The cashier begins ringing up my clothes, and once again, as I reach for the credit card my parents gave as a we're sorry for being so shitty all your life gift, Malia quickly hands hers over.

I bite the inside of my cheek, not wanting to have the no I'll pay debate with her another time today. Instead, I sigh and walk off, needing some space.

Malia says nothing as I leave. I'm sure she knows I can't go far, seeing as she drove, though I wish she hadn't—not only because now I can't escape her, but because she's so fucking bad at it.